


Isolated

by CarmillaCarmine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, 221b, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Bubble Bath, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Idiots in Love, Isolated, M/M, Quarantine, Sherlcok made an offer John couldn't refuse, Virus, bi panic, coming out to your best friend in from of a snog is a thing now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23142967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 255
Kudos: 840
Collections: 221B-Consolation Fest 2020, A Little Hope, HolmesCon Writers Collection, Isolated Johnlock Collection, Sherlock Fandom VS 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Изолированные (Isolated)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733238) by [Lesli_rus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesli_rus/pseuds/Lesli_rus)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Изолированные](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192014) by [Fanfiction_Johnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfiction_Johnlock/pseuds/Fanfiction_Johnlock)



> I scribbled this ficlet inspired by the horrid events outside and wanting to inspire happiness and positivity.  
> If you have an idea for a fic or a small ficlet (even a 221B) that matches the theme of this collection, feel free to join. The more the merrier! Stay safe!

“Bored!” Sherlock’s voice echoed in the sitting room of 221B.

“We’re not supposed to leave the house if it’s not an emergency,” John reminded him rationally, straightening his three-day-old newspaper. 

“This is an emergency, John!”

“No, you’re being overly dramatic. Don’t you have any experiments to perform?” John waved his hand towards the kitchen. 

“You threw out the thumbs last week.” Sherlock’s pout would have been adorable if John weren’t tired of the incessant whining. “I need something new! Something exciting that I’ve never experimented on to keep me interested while we’re stuck here for such a long time!”

Sherlock flopped on his armchair, wiggled in it impatiently, his dressing gown parting to reveal tight trousers and an even tighter shirt. Why Sherlock would fully dress himself when they weren't allowed to leave the house, John had no idea, but whatever was happening in Sherlock's mind was too bizarre for John to even contemplate.

Not a minute passed before Sherlock stood up abruptly, stomped to the sofa, and flopped there like a lifeless fish. Just when John thought he could go back to his sudoku, Sherlock stood up again and flailed his arms impatiently.

“Stop that!”John yelled, his patience wearing thin with every annoying second. “Do something or--”

“Or?” Sherlock challenged, looking at John, intrigued.

“I don’t know! Or I’ll make you! You’re driving me nuts!”

Sherlock squinted his eyes in disbelief, scoffed, and continued storming around the room, picking things off the table and dropping them back down. Books, mugs, bills...

“Oh for fucks’s sake!” John exclaimed, having had enough. He tossed his paper aside, strode towards his flatmate and grabbed him by the arms. Having the advantage of his anger fueling his strength and Sherlock’s shock on his side, John managed to maneuver him to Sherlock’s chair and plop him there unceremoniously. 

Noting the incredulous expression on Sherlock’s face, he said:

“I swear to God, I will tie you to this chair for the rest of the day if you don’t stop behaving like a spoilt child.” John held onto Sherlock’s wrists, which he had placed on the armrests as he leant closer to search Sherlock’s face for agreement or confrontation.

What he found in his flatmate’s eyes was something completely different. 

John didn’t get a chance to react to the heated expression before he felt himself being kissed.

It was a small peck on the lips but it felt sizzling nonetheless. Sherlock sat back on the chair, his lips parted and his eyes wide with shock.

He didn’t utter a word, nor did he move a muscle. 

John felt as if he had been sucked into a sci-fi novel where the impossible became reality and his gorgeous flatmate had just kissed him.

John licked his lips, trying to capture Sherlock’s taste but the kiss had been so chaste, there was nothing there. His body was still frozen above Sherlock's, their faces still mere inches apart, when John’s brain came back online and he gasped a lungful of air before he whispered: “What… was that?” 

John’s brain was suddenly flooded with memories of all the moments he had dared to glance at Sherlock’s body and hoped no one would see him looking. He recalled the evenings falling asleep alone, knowing that the warm body of the man he adored, but who didn’t return his feelings, was just one floor below him. 

He wasn’t gay, of course he wasn’t, but Sherlock was his best friend and his… oh fuck. John looked up from the open collar of Sherlock’s shirt, along his long neck and sharp cheekbone to meet Sherlock’s gaze. 

“Sherlock?” John prompted again, still waiting for an answer. 

The detective lifted one shoulder slightly and let it drop in a universal signal of  _ "I have no idea what I’ve just done, but if I fucked up then I’m sorry." _

“Did you mean it?” John choked out.

Sherlock’s eyes went even wider as his lips thinned into a line, his eyes boring into John, searching, analysing. 

He started to shake his head, then swallowed audibly and nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Fuck,” John exhaled as his whole body burnt with a sudden need that he had kept buried inside himself for too long. The hands that held Sherlock’s wrists travelled along his arms to Sherlock's neck to cup his face.

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered at the contact for a moment before they refocused on John. He lifted his chin up and parted his lips as if waiting for John to make a move. 

John’s body moved of its own volition as he climbed onto Sherlock’s lap and softly linked their lips. He captured Sherlock’s soft gasp and melted into the feeling of lush lips against his own. 

For a second, he thought he was imposing when Sherlock didn’t reciprocate. However, once he felt Sherlock’s hands cup his arse, he was sure he’d read the signals correctly. 

Sherlock broke the kiss, looked at John, took a deep breath, and pulled him closer again as his hands travelled up John’s back. This time the kiss was hungry, needy, and deep. Sherlock’s tongue slid into John’s mouth as if looking for answers to all the questions of the universe.

John melted into the embrace, letting all his bottled-up attraction flow into the kiss. He moaned at the taste of Sherlock’s lips, at the feeling of Sherlock’s body underneath him, at the hands that held him close then wandered, until they rested possessively on his hips.

They broke apart, panting, and John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s, still cupping his face. He stroked his thumbs against sharp cheekbones and released a small chuckle at the serenity that had overtaken Sherlock’s body. 

“Did you get what you wanted?” John asked, smiling even though his heart ached at the thought that the heated kiss could just have been just an experiment to Sherlock. He pushed the thought aside and focused on the moment, wanting to remember it in case it never occured again. 

“John…” Sherlock shook his head and sighed a theatrically exasperated sigh. “I’m just getting started.” His baritone rumbled as he uttered the words, sending shivers through John. “Will you let me proceed?”

“Oh God, yes…” John moaned before he dove for another searing kiss. 


	2. Chapter 2

John moaned into the kiss, feeling Sherlock’s hands slide under his shirt and caress his bare back with a tenderness he would have never suspected his flatmate capable of. He felt heat suffuse his body at the touch, the contrast of its tenderness at stark odds with the ferocity of the kiss that seemed to be erasing his ability for coherent thought. That was not surprising, given the skill with which he was being handled. 

Sherlock Holmes kissed as if his life depended on it. 

Melting into the hard lines of his flatmate’s body, John was on the verge of ripping both their clothes off before he forced his mind to come back online.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” John whispered breathlessly as he broke away for air. 

“It was an experiment,” Sherlock replied quickly, before diving back in for John’s lips. 

Right. It was just another experiment, which made it fine. John was just entertaining his flatmate for the greater good. It didn’t mean anything for either of them, right?

Placing his palms on Sherlock's chest, John pulled away. He’d thought he would have been all right with this being an experiment but the hollow pit in his stomach at Sherlock’s words was too painful to ignore. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” He looked at Sherlock’s reddened cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, feeling that his own were roughened from the scratch of Sherlock’s stubble. He’d never experienced that sensation before with women, and the lingering evidence of Sherlock on his face was exhilarating. John touched his own cheek then traced his lips with a fingertip.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything to you, John. I’m perfectly aware that you claim that you’re not gay and--”

“No, you don’t understand.” John shook his head.

“Then enlighten me.” Sherlock’s voice was stern, as if he were reining in his annoyance, yet his hands stayed firmly on John’s hips. 

“If we continue, I don’t think… I’m afraid…” John licked his lips and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He looked at Sherlock’s expression, clouded with confusion. “I’m afraid I’d want more.”

“More?” Sherlock's hold on John’s hips tightened, making John painfully aware of the position he was sitting in, straddling his flatmate. The physical contact was incredibly pleasant, making him realise that going further really was something his body wanted. However, he also realised that he couldn’t be intimate with Sherlock and then move on with his life as if nothing had happened. He would want to make it work on all levels of partnership. 

“I know it’s not something you do. Not your area and all that,” John continued, trying to get the point across. 

“We can do more. I just told you that it’s what I want and you agreed to it.” Using his grip on John’s hips for leverage, Sherlock moved him back a bit. John felt his flatmate’s erection between his clothed arse cheeks as he bucked his hips in a lewd move that made John’s resolve weaken. A small moan escaped him, but he quickly stifled it. He had been so careful around Sherlock, not to succumb to the need he’d never felt so strongly towards a man before. Now, he had to stay true to his previous resolve or he was bound to get hurt beyond repair. “Have you changed your mind?” Sherlock asked, ceasing his motion. “John?”

“I don’t want to be just an experiment to you!” John let out in a frustrated yell. His chest heaved, his jaw clenched, and his whole body prepared for the consequences of his words. He was ready to flee and lock himself in his bedroom, to endure the shame of rejection in solitude. He’d rather not know Sherlock carnally at all than experience it as a plaything, rather than a partner. 

Sherlock blinked. 

He opened his mouth, blinked again, took a deep breath as if he wanted to say something, then closed his mouth. 

John waited, his face heating from shame and the sudden realisation that he had inadvertently come out to his best friend. In truth, he had honestly come out to himself for the first time. He’d been denying the acknowledgement of his attraction to Sherlock; now he was sure it was there, and it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. 

Sherlock stayed silent as John’s head kept busy, going over his life’s relationships, his feelings towards Sherlock, and the events of the last half an hour.

“Did you say I  _ claim _ that I’m not gay?” John asked and witnessed a guilty expression appear on Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock swallowed then and seemed to regain his composure enough to speak.

“John, do you honestly think that I can’t see how you look at me? I may not have experience with relationships as you do, but I know lust when I see it.” Sherlock uttered his words slowly, carefully, as if he was aware he were pulling a pin from a John Watson grenade. 

“You’ve known all this time?” John gasped, flabbergasted. 

“If I’d told you, you’d have denied it. Don’t say you wouldn’t have! I didn’t want that for us.” Sherlock was speaking rapidly now, spewing his thoughts as fast as he would his deductions at a crime scene. “I didn’t want you to leave me. All your girlfriends come and go; I didn’t want to be one of them. Just a passing thought, just for a night or a week or even a month. We’re stuck here now. You can’t leave. Not for a while...”

“I genuinely tried to have relationships with them,” John protested.

“Then you see what my fear is.”

“But then I keep coming back to you…” John’s voice trailed off, as he was just coming to the conclusion that must have been obvious to everyone else in their circle of acquaintances. When the ‘Eureka!’ moment lit up John’s brain, he sat straighter and met Sherlock’s gaze with wide open eyes. “So maybe if I give a relationship with you a try, I won’t ever go anywhere, will I?” 

“Won’t you?” Sherlock asked carefully, lifting his brows. 

“What for?” John released a small chuckle as his chest became a bit lighter from the sudden awareness. “I’ve been so stupid!”

“As I’ve already told you before…”

“This...oh my God, Sherlock! This is huge… I didn’t realise… I…” He smiled at Sherlock, then felt it falter. “But that isn’t what you want, is it?” He searched Sherlock’s face, carefully moulded into a mask of neutrality. “It’s all too fast, I’m so sorry!”

“Shut up, John…” Sherlock’s baritone was low and only that and his eyes showed the emotion John himself felt before his face smoothed into a small smile. John felt his whole body relax at the sight. Sherlock’s hands travelled from John’s hips to his back again in a languid caress before applying pressure. John followed the prompt and leaned into his best friend, burying his face in Sherlock’s neck. He smelt of expensive soap and cologne. His soft curls, a bit too long at the nape, tickled John’s face. 

“I’m not going anywhere, pandemic or not.” John whispered into Sherlock’s skin. “But what about your experiment?” 

“We’ll experiment, but for now this is enough.” Sherlock released a sigh as he wrapped his arms around John, holding him impossibly close. “Just stay with me, John.”

John nodded, relaxing into the warm body of his flatmate, his best friend, his… partner in life. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their intimate encounter while isolated at 221B, Sherlock proposes taking a bath together.

They remained in Sherlock's chair, in a tender embrace for what seemed like hours, yet it felt not long enough when Sherlock whispered into John’s ear. 

“What would you say to a bath?”

“Me or you?” John sat up, still straddling Sherlock, to look at his flatmate’s face. 

“Both.” Sherlock lifted one eyebrow as his face changed from tender to cheeky. 

“Sherlock Holmes, are you flirting with me?” John couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his face. He could never keep up with what went on in Sherlock’s brain, so the sudden change of mood wasn’t that big of a surprise.

“Shut up!” Sherlock retorted with a smile. He stood, lifting John’s full weight in the process, then dumped him unceremoniously back on his feet. 

“Oi!” John exclaimed with mock offense as he straightened the clothes that Sherlock had crumpled so deliciously.

“Are you coming or not?” Sherlock called over his shoulder as he marched towards the door. He let his dressing gown fall off his shoulders and slide to the floor, tossing John a look over his shoulder. 

John stood with his mouth agape for a second longer, hardly believing in the astonishing change in Sherlock’s behaviour. He was the same, except more open and flirty, and dear God, John loved it. With a spring in his step, he followed his friend to the bathroom. Quickly and efficiently, Sherlock turned the taps in the bath on and checked the water temperature. Then, without a word, he left the bathroom, passing by a befuddled John. He disappeared into his bedroom, adjacent to the bathroom, and for the first time, John realised that when he takes a shower, Sherlock must hear every single thing through the thin wall and door. 

He shook his head at the blush that crept to his cheeks as he remembered what he always did during his evening shower. Had Sherlock ever deduced the cause of the soft grunts he might have heard? He must have known what John had been doing, as nothing escaped Sherlock's attention. The more important question was, did Sherlock enjoy listening to the sound of John’s pleasure?

A shuffling noise reached John’s ears and he followed it to poke his head through the door to Sherlock’s bedroom. His flatmate was rummaging in drawers, destroying the neatly ordered contents in them, and throwing things behind himself. A book flew in John’s direction, then a mug which he caught one handed saving it from crashing against the wall. He didn’t question Sherlock’s behaviour, just waited, as there was nothing out of the ordinary going on thus far. The detective finally turned to him with a set of bath salts, several black candles and a satisfied look on his face. He marched to the bathroom and started setting up the candles on the windowsill, lighting them with a lighter he took out of his pyjama trousers’ pocket. John frowned at the placement of the lighter and decided to investigate it further at a later time in case he had missed the signs of Sherlock smoking again.

“Are those Halloween candles?” John inquired, as the black color of them struck him as bizarre.

“Does it matter?” Sherlock retorted without turning around.

“No, I guess not...” John’s voice trailed off as his eyes registered what Sherlock was doing. Casually, as if it was absolutely no big deal, Sherlock was taking his clothes off. He started with the shirt, folding it gently on top of the toilet lid. When he unbuttoned the fly of his slacks, John released a choked sound before he spoke.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?” Sherlock paused his movements and turned around.

John couldn’t believe they were doing this. He went from apologizing for his train of thought going too far and being too much for Sherlock just moments before, to him being flabbergasted while standing in the bathroom with a half-naked Sherlock.

“Uhhh nothing. I just. Fuck, I’m shit at this. Talking.” He shook his head, disappointed in his own inability to continue what they’d started. 

“Yup.”

“I’ll try though.” John straightened his spine and nodded once, feeling resolve flowing through it. He was ready to set boundaries, to discuss everything so there would be no regrets.

With an impressive amount of exasperation, Sherlock sighed.

“If it’s too much for you, or too fast, just say...Vatican Cameos.” He waved his hand in the air as if conjuring the phrase they’d agreed to use in dire circumstances before. “You didn’t think we were going to take a bath in clothes, yet you’re still not undressing and acting like a blushing bride at me taking my own clothes off.”

“I’m not a blushing bride!” John scolded, blushing profusely, but this time more from anger than embarrassment. 

“No, of course you’re not.” Sherlock said flatly, clearly standing by his own statement. “You’ve seen me naked before though so what’s the issue now?”

“I saw you in a medical capacity or as a crazy flatmate who refused to sleep clothed and made coffee in the morning in pants at least, like everyone else in the world!” John fired back, his hand waving to indicate the entirety of Sherlock Holmes, the ridiculous flatmate. 

“I thought you liked that about me.” Sherlock’s tone went from annoyed to hurt and John took a step closer, taking Sherlock’s hand. 

“I did like it. Hell, I liked it a lot and it disturbed me. I didn’t know you were being a tease, geezus Sherlock.” John sighed. “I hated myself for liking it.”

“Do you still hate yourself for being attracted to me?”

“No, of course not!” John fell silent for a moment, reaching deep into himself for the correct explanation of how he felt. “Now, I hate that I’ve been so blind, so stupid. That I never realised that you and I, that us…”

“It got us here, John.” Sherlock squeezed John’s hand. “Do I hate that I drugged myself into stupor so many times that I was evicted from the flat I rented at Montague Street? Yes. Do I regret it? No. If I hadn’t done it, I might have never met you.” 

“I see your point,” John nodded, hiding the horrified feeling inside him at the reason why Sherlock had been looking for a flat back then.

“If you want to sleep on everything that happened today, it’s fine. Let’s just go back to the sitting room.” 

“No. I don’t want that.” John looked at Sherlock’s folded shirt. “You aren’t having second thoughts?”

Sherlock shook his head and scoffed.

“You feared you said too much and wanted to go too fast when you mentioned trying for a relationship with me. You are aware that my brain works a bit faster, correct?” Sherlock swallowed, looked at their joined hands then back at John’s face. He hadn’t hesitated when he’d started taking his clothes off. He hadn’t hesitated when he’d lit candles for a bath they were supposed to take together. Yet, now, Sherlock hesitated before he spoke. 

“Within an hour of meeting you, I was certain you would be an adequate flatmate. Within a day, I hoped I would become something more to you as you’ve become more to me. But it was after you killed for me, that I knew my heart wouldn't beat for anyone else.” 

Sherlock’s voice broke ever so slightly at the end of his confession. Silence fell between them as John processed the words and Sherlock let him, before he continued. 

“So don’t tell me about too fast or too much. It was like that for me from the very beginning. Now, will you let me take those clothes off of you, John?”

John felt a sense of rightness pass between them, and he smiled as he spread his arms, presenting himself to his best friend to be undressed. 

Sherlock took John’s t-shirt by the hem and slowly lifted it. Obligingly, John raised his arms up to let his detective slip the shirt over his head. He folded it and put it on top of his own shirt. The simple picture of their clothes folded on top of one another, not in separate drawers, not in separate rooms, but together, made John realise that this was exactly what he wanted for them. 

Sherlock’s eyes roamed over John’s chest and belly, making John feel self conscious about the state of his body. He had lost a bit of his soldierly muscles that he’d honed when he’d been on active duty. Just as he was about to cover his midriff with his hands, Sherlock took them in his and lowered them back to John’s sides. Then he placed his palms on John’s shoulders and with a languid movement, slid them down John’s chest, his belly and around his waist. John realised how stiffly he’d been standing the moment his muscles relaxed when Sherlock embraced him chest to naked chest.

“I never touched you. You tended to me, you touched me, and I never had the excuse to touch you, John,” Sherlock said in a soft tone that melted John’s heart.

“You don’t need an excuse anymore,” John breathed as Sherlock’s lips brushed the side of his neck before sucking the spot. He was about to protest, tell Sherlock that it would leave a mark, but then he understood. Sherlock was claiming him, marking him as his own for the first time. 

John tilted his head to give Sherlock more room and released a moan as Sherlock’s sucking sent a shiver through his body. No more second guessing, he promised himself. 

He was about to get naked and sit in a tub with his best friend and there were no more excuses in his head to prevent him from doing what they both clearly wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic was supposed to be finished at 2 chapters, but there will be at least 4 :)  
> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are enjoying their first bath together.

Hugging half-naked in the bathroom was not what Sherlock and John usually did, but being isolated at home and talking about their mutual attraction had changed a lot between them. 

John’s brain was short-circuiting when he felt Sherlock’s long fingers opening his fly. He felt himself flush from his chest to his ears but the reaction came from arousal rather than embarrassment. Sherlock pulled away from him enough to be able to crouch down as he languidly slid John’s jeans down his legs. After prompting John to step out of the garment, Sherlock folded it neatly, as if they had all the time in the world. However, John was already thinking of when he would do the same to Sherlock, giving him all the attention he deserved. Still crouching, the detective hooked his fingers in the waistband of John’s red boxers and looked up to John’s face. 

With a small nod, John agreed to reveal his already full erection to his flatmate. It bounced when released from confinement and captured Sherlock’s attention completely. For a full moment, Sherlock looked at it, his head slightly tilted, as if he was inspecting every minute detail of it and committing it to memory. Then again, that was most likely exactly what he was doing. John expected to feel scrutinised, hesitant or embarrassed but knowing how Sherlock felt and that he’d seen him naked before, made him feel as if this was indeed just another step in their long-brewing relationship. Sherlock had seen him in the shower a few times when he’d barged in to tell him something ‘important’ about his latest experiment and had kept doing it from time to time, despite John’s yelps and curses at the intrusion. 

John touched Sherlock’s arms to prompt him to stand up so that he could reciprocate the gesture. Instead of letting John undress him with the same precision, however, Sherlock nearly jumped out of his trousers and quickly folded them along with John’s pants. John was about to protest but he saw that Sherlock hadn't been wearing any underwear. The long and heavy erection swung with Sherlock’s movements and John realised he’d never noticed underwear lines when he had caught himself staring at Sherlock’s trouser-clad arse. The new discovery spiked his arousal and he knew that he would never look at Sherlock in clothes the same way again. 

A slight blush accentuated Sherlock’s sharp cheekbones and John vowed he would do anything to keep it there all evening. Sherlock tossed two handfuls of the bath salts he’d brought while John stepped into the bathtub and extended his hand to his best friend. 

“Shall we?”

Sherlock took his hand as if he'd been asked to dance and stepped into the tub quickly filling with foam. They turned the water off just in time not to spill it over as they tried to sit down. It took a bit of clever maneuvering to fit them both in the small tub but, accompanied by self-conscious giggling on both sides, they managed it splendidly, settling to face each other, buried in a mound of bubbles. 

Sherlock’s long legs ended up on both sides of John’s waist, placing John in a position in which he had to be very careful where he placed his feet. It was especially tricky as the foam prevented him from seeing what ended under the water. Seeing John’s predicament, Sherlock fished for John’s ankles and moved John’s feet so that the top of them brushed Sherlock’s inner thighs. 

Sherlock’s thumbs gently caressed John’s ankles as his hands lingered for a moment, before he placed them on both sides of the tub’s rim, mirroring John’s pose. John was able to reach his best friend’s hand and he brushed his fingers over Sherlock’s knuckles, as if to prove to himself that it was okay to do it. The touch made Sherlock flip his hand and take John’s in his, doing so with their hands on the other side as well. John felt that the connection meant a lot more than the simple touch in itself. It was a declaration that they were doing this “more than friends” thing together.

Holding both of John’s hands in his, Sherlock closed his eyes and rested the back of his head on the tiled wall behind him, releasing a deep sigh. John’s body relaxed as if he channelled the same energy, and he took a calming breath himself. This was the best introduction to new intimacy he’d ever had with anyone. Most of his intimate relations had been with women he’d met at work, in a bar or at a party. The road to getting lucky had usually been quite quick and satisfying but after that, there had been not much left to do, not a lot to talk about, even with the people he technically had work or interests in common. His relationships had usually lacked that something; the spark between two people that had the potential to blow into something bigger. As he’d told Sherlock before, he had tried his best to make those relationships work, but he hadn’t been able to conjure something that simply didn’t exist.

The first day he’d met Sherlock, there had been a sizzle between them, as if energy flowed back and forth to settle on pulling them towards each other. Since the very beginning of their friendship with Sherlock, he could sit in companionable silence and not feel awkward, but they also had so much to talk about. They were in the habit of staying up late or even until dawn when they got engrossed in a particularly stimulating conversation. 

John’s eyes roamed over the porcelain skin of Sherlock’s exposed neck, his sharp jawline, collarbones and the part of his chest that was above the foam. The very idea of them sitting comfortably naked in a tub, felt surreal. The possibility of him touching the soft skin on Sherlock’s body, not with a doctor’s touch but a lover’s, seemed absolutely surreal. Yet, here they were.

In a rush of confidence, John maneuvered his legs under him and leaned forward to place a small kiss on Sherlock’s clavicle. The detective must have felt John move, yet he stayed still, allowing John to continue. Emboldened, John placed another kiss, this time to the side of Sherlock’s neck, bracing himself on the sides of the tub. 

“Mmmm,” came the low sound from the detective before he wrapped his arms around John and pulled him closer. The water sloshed in the tub, spilling out onto the floor with a splat. John ignored it, opting to continue kissing his gorgeous flatmate, eliciting more of the erotic sounds he was making. Sherlock’s hands slid along John’s back to his arse and squeezed, making John rut forward, shameless in his need for friction. 

Then Sherlock’s hands disappeared and a moment after John felt Sherlock’s long fingers on his thigh, so close to his cock that he wanted to reach for that hand and move it just an inch. He was acting boldly already, but also making his progress slowly, therefore he stayed unmoving, ceasing the motion of his hips, as he anticipated Sherlock's next move. 

The detective reached for the bottle of shower gel with the other hand and abandoned touching John's thigh in favor of pouring the liquid. He lathered John’s back, all the way down to his buttocks, massaging and squeezing, as if he harboured the same fixation that John had about the detective’s pert cheeks. When Sherlock’s fingers ghosted over John’s crease, he released a soft gasp but forced himself not to flinch from a touch he wasn’t used to feeling from someone other than himself. Sherlock’s hands continued massaging his cheeks, spreading the gel and John found himself wanting them to explore more again. He was just getting used to the idea of Sherlock’s touch on him and he wanted it more with every passing second. He arched his body, suggestively moving his arse up, because his face would burn if he had to say what he wanted in words. 

The expert at reading body language received the message, and Sherlock’s hands moved to John’s crease again. Gentle fingertips, slicked by the gel, moved over John’s entrance making him gasp into Sherlock’s neck. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock was preparing him for something specific or just playing to see how far John was willing to go. Little did he know that John had yearned too long for Sherlock’s touch to back away from anything at this point. He undulated his hips into Sherlock’s hands, wordlessly telling him what he needed.

“Turn around,” Sherlock said into John's ear before he sucked on his earlobe. With a grumble of reluctance, John gave Sherlock's jaw a parting kiss before he turned his back to his friend. He didn’t want to push for anything, even if he suspected Sherlock was just being a tease, as he had proven himself capable of being today already. 

With more gel, Sherlock massaged John’s trapezius muscles, making John realise how strained they had been. Then, he skillfully kneaded John’s shoulders and moved lower, his fingertips pressing precisely into the places that seemed to need it most. John rolled his head on his shoulders and felt the immediate effects of the massage working on him. 

Sherlock’s hands travelled to John’s sides and linked over his abdomen, prompting John to lay back. It was incredible how well his body fit into Sherlock’s as he rested his head on Sherlock’s chest. 

“Relaxed yet?” Sherlock asked, a smile clear in his voice. 

“Not yet,” John sassed back, tilting his head to look at his flatmate. 

Sherlock’s full lips were close and he couldn’t believe how he had resisted kissing them for so long. He reached to place a palm on Sherlock’s cheek as the detective leaned in for a kiss. The small movement made John very aware of Sherlock’s hard cock pressed against his back as their lips met for a short, soft kiss. 

“Now it's my turn to wash you,” he smiled, turning to face Sherlock again. 

He took possession of the bottle of gel and squirted it on his hand. Sherlock’s intense gaze followed John’s movements as he lathered it onto Sherlock’s arms, pectorals and down his abdomen. The smug smile on Sherlock’s face turned into an expression of pleasure as he gasped when John’s hand reached his cock. John was unable to see through the foam but he had a firm grip on an erection almost rivalling his own in size. 

“John…” The word left Sherlock in a low rumble as he thrust his hips. 

Both of them had been hard since their first snog on Sherlock’s chair so the sexual tension that coursed through John, must be flowing through his friend as well. 

Sherlock’s hand disappeared under the foam and his long and graceful fingers wrapped around John’s cock under the water. Heat bloomed in John’s abdomen and he closed his eyes to drink in the feeling of Sherlock’s hand fully. 

“Oh God, Sherlock… I can’t wait any longer…” John moaned the words as his body was getting ready to explode.

“That’s...good…” Sherlock’s breath came in short bursts as his eyes met John’s.

Not for the first time, they had a wordless conversation encompassed within one look and they both knew what they wanted. 

John leaned over his friend until their cocks touched and their hands wrapped around them both. Sherlock’s hand on the bottom and John’s on top worked the friction faster and faster, chasing the looming orgasm that was clearly coming soon for the both of them. 

In their gasps and sloshing water, they grappled for each other, John thrusting his body until he almost lay on Sherlock. They kissed sloppily, John murmuring soft praise about Sherlock’s incredible touch as the chaos of their movements set his body on fire. 

“I want…” Sherlock panted.

“Anything…” John groaned in response.

“I want you to come with me John...Come for me, John...Ahhhhh now!”

The frantic movements of Sherlock’s hand on their cocks, coupled with the words he spoke, sent John flying into a spasm of orgasmic pleasure. 

“John…John...John!” the name on Sherlock’s lips as he came added to the overwhelming sensation that coursed through John until he collapsed on his friend, satiated and relaxed. 

“That was…” John kissed Sherlock’s peck, his face was plastered to, “...amazing.”

For the second time in his life, John was certain that the moment that had passed, was the beginning of the rest of his life. The first time, it had been meeting Sherlock at Barts. 

The sigh of contentment that left John, mirrored Sherlock’s as they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time was nigh to get out of the tub after their first time together, but the dread of what was next lingered in both John and Sherlock.

The water growing cold in the tub was a clear sign that their time in it was  coming to an end. John wa s r elaxed and conten t. H e didn’t want to leave Sherlock’s embrac e, a s if moving on could shatter the happy bubble  they’d managed to create over the last few hours. As if facing the world outside the bathroom door would propel them back to being just friends. 

Then a thought crossed his mind and he perked up at the idea before he shook his hea d, d eciding Sherlock had given him enough and he shouldn’t be too greedy.

“Just say it, John. The struggle in your mind is  exhausting me. I don’t think there’s anything you can ask that would make me --”

“Can we sleep in your bed tonight?” John spoke into Sherlock’s pec, interrupting his friend, the words spilling out like a waterfall he was unable to stop. 

When a moment passed without a response and the hand in John’s hair stilled, he began to suspect his worry hadn’t been unfounded. He  lifted his head and found that ‘Sherlock.exe’ had stopped working. The faraway stare with Morse-code blinking made John sit up. He half-expected for the blinking to actually be in the damn code, but instead of focusing on trying to read it, he put a tentative hand on Sherlock’s cheek.

“Sherlock? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I --”

“Yes!” Sherlock exclaimed, sitting up as if his transport  had rebooted and was now functioning properly. He placed a hand over John’s on his cheek, tilting his head slightly towards it. “My bed is bigger and I have superior quality sheets. We can stay close, touch… or not -- the bed is big enough for that. We can do more or nothing at all. You’re a naturally warm person, so it would be fortunate for me to have you under the covers as I’m always cold but I hate wearing pyjamas to bed.  They’re so uncomfortable and  get into places  they shouldn’t when I move at night. John,”  Suddenly he broke the machine-gu n-p aced monologue to look at John, breaking his eye contact with the tiled wall in front of him. “You should be aware that I possess no data as to whether I would snore or move during the night when someone would be in bed with me, although it should not be any different to my behaviour when I’m alone. According to the data I gathered by recording myself at night, I don’t snore but I do flail a bit, so beware of a smack to the face. I apologise in advance.”

“Oh Sherlock,” John  broke in the moment Sherlock took a deep breath, surely  about to continue his tirade. “It’s all fine. I’m happy you’re willing to share your bed with me. I have no expectations, and whatever happens -- or doesn’t happen -- it’s all fine,” he assured, caressing Sherlock’s cheekbone with his thumb. 

“It is?”

“Yeah, of course, it is. Come here.”

John opened his arms and Sherlock leant forward to embrace him, their legs preventing a proper hug taking place. 

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

“Me too,” John chuckled. “Let’s get going.” 

With long-legged grace, Sherlock stepped out and handed John one of the two towels that hung next to each other on a rail above the old-built radiator. Making wet footprints on the floorboards, Sherlock padded into his room naked, his back straight. His put-on composure crumbled when he looked over his shoulder at John and a splash of pink tinted his cheeks. 

Towel forgotten, John levelled a playful, narrowed stare before he lunged. 

With a squeal of delight not befitting a grown man with an international reputation, Sherlock ran into his bedroom. When John passed the threshold, Sherlock was already  a lump in the middle of the bed, under the black sheets and thick duvet.

Kneeling on the floor, John snuck his head under the duvet.

“Silly detective,” he chuckled, a fond smile on his face. 

“You don’t like it…” the big lump murmured in a sad tone.

“I love it so much, I could kick myself for not doing everything to know this side of you sooner.”

“Really? You knew I was a ridiculous man...”

“Yeah, but now I know you can be ridiculous in a very sexy way.”

“Shut up.”

“Never.”

“Then get under the covers. I’m still cold.” 

John chuckled and slid under, head first. For a moment the two grown men sat cross-legged under the big duvet, the darkness and safety of the fluff over their heads unlocking another door between them. 

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” Sherlock’s voice was serious.

“Like what?”

A breath passed before Sherlock spoke again.

“Your girlfriends… you… you weren’t close to them before seeking a physical connection. The data I gathered from your dating suggested that you prefer to keep friendship and intimacy separate. I understand that approach based on the assumption that if the latter wouldn’t work, the former would be ruined.”

“What are you trying to say, Sherlock?”

“What if we ruin our friendship with intimacy? I’m not one of those women, I can’t just --”

John sighed. He reached for Sherlock’s hand, and after finding the detective’s knee first, he squeezed it, then took Sherlock’s hand in his. Thankful for the darkness, John gathered his thoughts to form the explanation that would seem the most logical to Sherlock. Even though John felt deep inside him that this was  _ it _ for him, that if Sherlock wanted him, body and soul, friends and lovers, John would never look back -- he had to explain it in words to the detective. 

“You’re right saying that you are not one of my dates. You’re my best friend, and the added new stuff is what I hope would make our friendship more, not less. I’ve been afraid to take a step with you for a long time now for similar reasons, but mostly because I assumed you didn’t want me like that. Or anyone else for that matter. That maybe sex just wasn’t your thing, your area, or... I don’t know.” He shrugged, trying to find words, hoping Sherlock could deduce from the sincerity in his voice what he really meant. “I can promise you right now that there is nothing we could do in bed or outside of it, nothing you could ask me or tell me that could drive a wedge between us. All I ask from you is to tell me what you’re comfortable with and what you’re willing to do without putting on a brave face if you don’t like something.”

“If I don’t like something, you’ll be the first to know,” Sherlock replied with a soft snort.

“I know it’s usually like that, but we’ve both been hiding this attraction for way too long and old habits die hard.” 

“Is that a quote from the Christmas movie you wanted me to watch with you?”

“What? Oh! We’re totally watching it now, but it’s a saying and sometimes they have some truth in them.”

“I understand. No hiding how much I want to touch you. Asking for what I want. Telling you when I find something to be ‘not good’.” He paused between each sentence as if pointing them out on his fingers.

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

There was a rustle of sheets and the duvet collapsed in front of John. He slid it off his head to see Sherlock sitting on the bed, curls still slightly damp but strewn every which way in an adorable halo. 

John’s smile grew wide, the view in front of him the essence of his wildest dreams. A wild Sherlock in his habitat. 

With a curt nod, as if sealing some deal he’d been mulling over in his head, Sherlock lay on his side, his back to John. Then he lifted his head, punched the pillow twice and placed his head back on it. 

“Hold me, John,” came a sure yet quiet request. 

“Of course,” John said, a lump of tender feelings blocking his throat. 

Wiggling close, John felt the cold wafting off of Sherlock’s body. When John’s chest was snug to Sherlock’s back, he pulled the duvet over them and put his arm over his best friend.

The long sigh that left Sherlock as his body relaxed into John’s, was a clear signal that they were heading in the right direction. Inhaling the scent of Sherlock’s hair, John let his eyes drift closed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After falling asleep in each other’s arms, John and Sherlock wake up to discover things they didn’t know about the other.

John woke up in a cold sweat. He was already sitting up, and he blinked fast to get his eyes accustomed to the darkness. 

The images from the nightmare he’d woken from  still lingered fresh in his head; in his strained muscles; in his fisted hands. He rubbed his face, half-surprised there were no remnants of the desert sand that he’d fallen into in his dream. 

John was in a bed that felt different. The sheets were softer tha n h is, the mattress was harder but more comfortable. His breathing quickened anew, his mind racing until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, John. It was a nightmare. You’re safe.”

Sherlock.

It was Sherlock’s voice.

The entirety of the evening came rushing back to him and he reached out for his friend. The comfort of Sherlock's presence calmed John down immediately as he was pulled into an embrace. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Sherlock asked, his voice as gentle as John has ever heard it.

He shook his head. The detachment from the horror his mind had concocted was better than reliving it to tell it to Sherlock. 

“Is it okay that I’m touching you?”

John nodded, guiding Sherlock to lay back down as he placed his face in the crook of Sherlock’s neck.

They lay in silence for a while, but John could tell Sherlock was not asleep. His breathing was deep and even, but he was tracing tiny circles on John’s back with his fingertips. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asked, then reiterated. “What are you thinking about?”

“That was the best bath I’ve ever taken.” 

“I was surprised that the water didn’t evaporate.” John laughed at his own joke.

“Idiot.” Sherlock retorted, mirth clear in his voice.

“Mmm, but I’m your idiot,” John muttered into Sherlock’s clavicle. 

Sherlock cupped his face, smiled and kissed him. Not a second later, he backed away and frowned. 

“So that’s what morning breath tastes like…”

“Oh shit, yeah.” 

John pulled away, cringing.

Looking completely unperturbed, Sherlock stood up and headed to the bathroom. 

“Come along, John. Brush your teeth. I want to kiss you in bed.”

“Right,” John sprang up and followed his flatmate. Sherlock was indeed unlike anyone John had ever dated, and brushing teeth because he wanted to snog would probably be the most mundane of the things Sherlock would request. John might as well get used to that and just roll with it. 

He entered the bathroom to see Sherlock using the loo, flush, then quickly wash his flaccid cock in the sink.

“What? I sleep naked and I like my sheets clean. Now, teeth, John,” he nodded in the direction of the cup with two toothbrushes and reached for one himself.

Sherlock had never shied away from nakedness but this was a new level of being comfortable naked around each other. All of it meant that Sherlock took to heart the agreement of doing what he liked and asking for what he wanted. 

They brushed teeth looking at each other in the small mirror above the sink. It was difficult to do it properly while smiling, but John managed. 

“So you’ve never slept in the same bed with someone, but does it mean… I mean, are you…?” John struggled through the question on their way back to bed. 

“A virgin?” Sherlock supplied, sliding under the covers. John nodded, sliding in next to him. “No. Even I didn’t escape the peer pressure and the sheer curiosity of what the fuss was all about.”

“Okay,” John propped his head on his forearm, so he could look at Sherlock who lay on his side, facing him.

“My first time was with a woman, a girl I guess, we were all young then.”

“Oh really?” John’s brows popped up. “You… you like women too, then?” 

“No, but I was interested in the ordeal itself and every man I knew was doing it with a woman, so it seemed that’s how it was supposed to be.” Sherlock shrugged and John felt sympathy for that teen who hadn’t known better then, similarly to how John hadn't known for most of his life that he’d fancied men as well as women. 

“And?” John prompted, curiosity killing the sense of being proper. 

“I studied for it accordingly. During the two weeks before the agreed date, I read all the books at the University’s library on the subject and analysed all possible scenarios I could think of. But it was nothing like I’d expected. She was pretty; with long, brown hair and big eyes, but I didn’t feel the sexual attraction. She stimulated me enough to be ready, my body knew what it wanted even though I didn’t yet. Then I stimulated her until she trashed on the bed and pulled my hair. It hurt, but I didn’t complain. The penetration was warm and I imagined Victor, my best friend then, and it helped me.” He sighed but didn’t seem upset with the tale. “I wasn’t interested in repeating the act until I found out Victor fancied men too. That day, I deleted all information on how to please a woman from my, then meagre, Mind Palace, as I knew I would never need it again.”

John chuckled good-humouredly. Of course, Sherlock gathered data and deleted it upon rendering his research useless.

“How about you?” Sherlock asked matter of factly, sending John down memory lane. 

“Her name was Cindy. She was staying with her grandparents for summer vacation. I was sixteen and she was a year older. Her breasts…” John sighed, recalling their exact shape and size even after all these years. “I fell asleep thinking of them for months after that night. She was my girlfriend for the summer until she had to go back home to go to school.”

“So it was good?”

“It was fast. Way too fast, but it did feel good. The second time was better, and the one after that… Stop rolling your eyes! I was a horny teen. I was skinny then, if you can believe it, but the girls liked me.”

“Only girls?”

“Yeah…” John trailed off, thinking of his past lovers. “So… my first experience with a man… um… physical experience, not counting a crush on my commander in the army, was um…”

Sherlock seemed to hold his breath when John let their gazes meet before he finished.

“You.”

A smug grin spread across Sherlock’s face.

“It’s been a night of firsts for both of us,” Sherlock observed laying flat on the bed and looking at the ceiling. 

“Yeah.”

“Now, kiss me, John.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments! They mean a lot and keep me writing!  
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> If you'd like to read more of my Isolated-themed fics, check out:  
> [Because I Care](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090790/chapters/57985549) (fluff)  
> or  
> [The Doctor's Reward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736229/chapters/57002128) (smut)  
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> To read more Isolation-themed stories from other writers (or add your own), check out: ["Isolated Johnlock Collection"](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/IsolatedJohnlockCollection)  
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> EDIT: This fic will get at least 3 more chapters, so if you enjoyed it so far, consider subscribing!


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